


A Momentary Lapse of Reason

by monoidea



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Day Off, Established Relationship, M/M, Sailing, Weatherporn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24091399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monoidea/pseuds/monoidea
Summary: One slip is all it takes, and you end up facing unintended consequences.
Relationships: Flynn Fairwind/Mathias Shaw
Comments: 5
Kudos: 36
Collections: Fairshaw Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for #FairshawWeek 2020 prompt Day 2: Day off.  
> The second chapter is for Day 7: Storm.

"...and that's all of it. You are dismissed." The three operatives nodded at Wyrmbane's final words and set off each on their respective missions.  
It was a quiet evening on the Wind's Redemption. Wyrmbane stifled a yawn as he set to gather all pieces of paper from the desk, ready to settle in for the night.  
"Now all we have to do is wait for their return. It's been a quiet week."  
"Too quiet. The calm before a storm I daresay." Shaw noted grimly. "However the issue with the island expedition is unsettling." The Middenwake, along with three appointed champions on board, went missing. It was due to return the day before, but no one heard a word about the vessel since its departure.  
"Indeed. But they've been delayed before, it isn't necessary to jump to conclusions." Wyrmbane said, stifling yet another yawn. It irked Shaw in a way he couldn't voice. They had tiring days behind them. "By the way, Shaw. I have a feeling things will speed up once the agents return. But that won’t happen anytime soon. I suppose now is the chance for you to take a few days off. We can handle things here."  
"Now, that is entirely unnecessary," Shaw replied. He wasn’t the one constantly yawning, for Light’s sake.  
"It’s your call, but we don’t want you burned out before the end of the war. Shandris said you haven’t slept more than a few hours in the last two weeks.” Shandris was more than 10,000 years old, of course she noticed, Shaw growled inwardly.  
"I trust that you know I’m fully capable of taking care of myself," he said defensively.  
"I’m aware. I merely offered you a chance. Take it or leave it. Now, goodnight!"

It was well past midnight and Shaw laid in his bed wide awake, fuming. There was loud snoring coming from the next cabin – definitely Wyrmbane -, but annoying as it was, that wasn’t the sole reason sleep eluded him. Gears in his mind whirred rapidly as he was pondering on the Middenwake’s possible fate. Chances were they got caught up in that vicious storm that reached Boralus two nights before. Or the Horde could have slaughtered them. It could have been an unknown voracious deep-sea creature. An unstable chunk of azerite could have exploded. Fairwind even mentioned undead vrykuls once.  
_Fairwind._  
His thoughts halted at once. The thought of the possible death of Flynn Fairwind had his chest hammering in frenzy. Shaw was aware that he was jumping to grim conclusions, but he had every reason to do so. He was used to steeling himself to handle bad news better when they arrived. It was his job to see through the war, and while Fairwind was an essential asset to the Alliance effort, he was expendable. Replaceable. He should worry about the champions in reality, but Fairwind…  
Somehow not knowing his fate was worse than being presented with a dead body. Missing in action. There were so many agents Shaw lost like that, knowing very well that they were dead, yet he could never mourn properly and strike off their names because of that small sliver of hope that they might turn up alive and well with an elaborate story to boot. Such turn of events rarely ever occurred.  
The snoring got louder. Shaw had a thought to give Wyrmbane a visit and gently push a pillow onto his face. It would be a sad day for the Alliance. He even imagined explaining the details of the assassination committed by an unknown perpetrator to a very heartbroken Anduin. No, he cursed inwardly. He can’t be a bastard like that. He didn’t want to make Anduin sad. That was what kept Wyrmbane alive at the moment.  
The snoring abruptly stopped. Shaw sighed, turning in his bed. Maybe someone else had similar intentions and ended the paladin’s life. Maybe Wyrmbane just choked on his own, it could be the Light’s work. Shaw would start worshipping the Light in earnest if that was the case.  
Then the snoring resumed, now even louder than before. Shaw groaned, trying to muffle out the sound by putting the pillow on his ears. Maybe he should just smother himself. He wondered if he could.  
With an effort, he rose, hearing his joints pop. He exited his cabin and emerged on board. The night was clear and crisp and the harbor was quiet save for the waves splashing against the pillars. A pair of eyes glowed in the darkness, Shandris stood on the deck, and for moment blue light darted at Shaw when she glanced at him. She then resumed gazing at the stars, leaning on the railing. Shaw joined her silently.  
“You can’t sleep.,” she said as a matter of fact.  
“Well observed,” Shaw replied sarcastically. Shandris didn’t bat an eye at the remark.  
“Now, do you wonder why I told Wyrmbane that you couldn’t sleep?” she asked quietly.  
“I don’t have a clue.” probably to annoy him, but he couldn’t fathom the motivation behind the night elf’s move.  
“You are irritated.”  
“I am, so? It happens, we’re at war, everyone’s been on edge since we left Stormwind.”  
“Spymaster. I like working with you, your skills and wits are essential for our cause. However, your sarcasm and pessimism are not.”  
“Well. Is it my fault everyone is nettlesome on this ship?” At this Shandris looked at him, but didn’t blink now either. A hint of a smile lurked at the corners of her mouth, barely visible in the faint moonlight.  
“You don’t seem aware of it yourself. But I started to see the pattern, you tend to get quite rude when you are exhausted,” she explained.  
Shaw pondered on that with a frown and didn't answer.  
“You don’t have to leave, but if you take a piece of advice from a friend… Try to rest. Right now we are only waiting, and we have nothing to do. You know that very well. And… it would be preferred If you weren’t intent on demoralizing the whole crew.”

The next day the sun rose brightly, which was a rare occasion in the ever-gloomy and rainy Boralus. A small ship appeared on the horizon, lit by the morning sun, floating on the sparkling sea. Once it approached, however, bystanders noticed that something was off. It was the Middenwake, but it was in a barely recognizable state. One mast was broken in half, its sails were ragged, chunks of plank were missing and it was lopsided and slow. The damaged ship approached slowly and its crew had a hard time docking. Shaw was anxiously sipping at his coffee on the deck of the Redemption as he watched the scene with a nervous flip in his stomach. Something went awry on the expedition, and he was about to find out the details.  
He went straight to the Harbormaster’s Office. Nobody was there, so he went further down on the docks where the ship anchored. He almost hissed in relief when he saw the person he was looking for.  
“Well, hull’s full of azerite… and water.” Captain Fairwind sounded cheerful despite his state, the lilt in his voice carrying far away. He had a makeshift bandage on his arm which hung limply in a sling.  
“Flynn. No smooth sailing, I reckon? What in the Tide happened to you lot?” Cyrus asked as he assessed the damage on the ship. Shaw caught up in a few long strides.  
“Harbourmaster, Captain Fairwind.” Shaw greeted the men.  
“Ah. Master Shaw! Sorry, report’s not ready yet. We’ve been a bit busy getting home.” Flynn scratched the back of his head as he turned back to the ship, no doubt it was the first time he actually saw the amount of damage his poor vessel sustained. He bore a mournful look.  
“Now how do I even start… The mission was a success, azerite all stashed up nice and ready. Just as we were about to sail home, we got caught up in a monstrous storm. Now, I’ve seen a lot of storms in my life but it was unlike anything I encountered before.”  
“Same storm hit us. I was afraid you didn’t make it.” Cyrus nodded.  
“It was a close call. The hail was the least of our problem. We managed to steer clear from the center of it, or so I thought. Then out of nowhere, we got hit by a waterspout and we almost capsized. That was the moment our mast was practically torn off.”  
“Casualties?” Shaw asked. He didn’t see the champions around.  
“None.” Flynn looked outright exhausted. “Thank the Tides,” he added. He didn’t seem to have the energy to joke about as he usually did.  
“That’s good news. Also, lad, you did a fine job. Hitting a waterspout, eh? Only you can be this lucky, Flynn.” Cyrus patted Flynn in the back. “Your ship though, that wasn’t so lucky. Is it still salvageable, what do you think?” Flynn glanced at the ship again, with a sad pout.  
“To be honest, it looks worse than it is. I think it can be repaired within a few days, hopefully. It sailed us home just fine.”  
“I’ll notify the shipwrights to start work immediately, then.”  
Cyrus turned towards Shaw.  
“Until then, the island expeditions are to be halted.”  
Shaw had to object to that.  
“We might consider getting another ship. While I understand the need for repairs, we cannot let the horde take advantage while we’re sitting idly.”  
“Oh. That reminds me! The Horde ship wasn’t lucky either.” Flynn clipped in. “They were tailing us when they got hit by a bolt of lightning.” he let out a little evil smirk. “The buggers had it coming.”  
“Now, that is good to hear. Very well. I will talk to the Commander about the matter. Please file in your report as soon as possible.” Shaw said and excused himself.

“So you say the Horde ship suffered the same fate?”  
“That, or worse. They need some time to lick their wounds. And we know they can’t afford more ships either, the banshee doesn’t waste her resources.” Shaw said.  
Wyrmbane stood by the railing of the Redemption, from where they could clearly see _the Middenwake_ , as the shipwrights started working on the repairs.  
“How long will the repairs take?” the paladin asked.  
“Three to four days, they said.”  
“Hm. The Horde will need time to recuperate as well. I guess we have no choice then.”  
They turned around when they heard steps behind them. Captain Fairwind approached, waving a piece of paper in his left hand.  
“Now, who should I give this to?” he asked nonchalantly as he reached them. Halford greeted him and he reached for his report and went to his table. Shaw and Fairwind remained at the railing. Flynn looked at his ship wistfully, Shaw had his back towards it thus he managed to get a glance at the captain’s mournful expression. His gaze drifted downwards at his bandaged hand.  
“You need a healer,” he noted.  
“Hm?” Flynn asked absent-mindedly, then finally looked at the spymaster, tearing his eyes away from _the Middenwake_.  
“Your arm.” Shaw gestured.  
“Oh. It’s but a scratch,” he said with a lopsided smile. Shaw could see by the angle of his wrist that it either twisted or broken. To confirm his suspicions he reached for the captain’s wrist to gently squish the bones together. Flynn stifled a yelp at that as he wrenched himself free from the contact and tears sprang to his eyes. Shaw looked at him expectantly with raised eyebrows, slightly amused. Yes, definitely broken.  
Flynn wore a defeated look. Shaw grabbed at his left elbow, the one not hurt and dragged Fairwind to the stairs below deck.  
“Not sure what’s your idea here mate, but I don’t think I can..” Flynn started but was cut off by Shaw immediately.  
“You need a healer,” he said, more sternly. Flynn groaned at that but went with Shaw reluctantly. They trotted toward the Grand Lector’s cabin, Shaw pushing and pulling Fairwind in the right direction. They were in the lowest part of the ship now, where on a few cots injured soldiers slept. The Grand Lector was sitting on a crate, picking at her nails. She looked up at the two men approaching and frowned.  
“Spymaster, weren’t you supposed to be on leave?” Shaw didn’t answer but bit his lip. He felt Fairwind’s eyes boring into him immediately upon hearing the question.  
Then the draenei’s eyes found the captain. “Since when are we healing the locals too?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. Flynn felt chills on his spine at hearing her voice.  
“He’s our ally, Grand Lector.” At this, she hummed scornfully but gestured at Fairwind to sit by her. Fairwind hissed through grit teeth as she none too gently removed the bandage and his coat. Shaw stood by and could only watch in sympathy. The draenei invoked the light and soon all of Fairwind’s pain eased as the healer mended his arm. His shoulders visibly sagged in relief, tension all gone from his body. He thanked the Grand Lector humbly who dismissed him with a brief motion of her hands, unkindly.  
Shaw escorted Flynn out, anticipating Flynn's question and already rehearsing his own answer.  
"So. You are free?"  
"No," Shaw answered sharply, immediately.  
"But-"  
"I said no." Flynn remained quiet, and Shaw was content with that.  
They scaled the stairs and found themselves on the starboard once again. Wyrmbane glanced up from his table, eyes darting between the two men.

"But I'm free too. We could go sailing," Flynn whined and Shaw cursed inwardly at his timing because Wyrmbane overheard and decided to chirp in.  
"That's actually a splendid idea, Shaw," he said. Then he turned to Flynn as if Shaw weren't even there and hid half of his face with a hand and in a mock-whisper he added: "The spymaster is in dire need of some well-earned relaxation, to be frank."  
Shaw observed the situation defeatedly and noticed that Flynn even had the audacity to wink at Wyrmbane who in turn let a little evil glee show on his face. The holy fucking paladin! Shaw felt his gut twist in anger.

Wyrmbane turned to Shaw, obviously satisfied. Shaw was thinking of a dozen ways to assassinate the paladin, dissecting him was somewhere near the top of the list along with gutting.  
"So how long will you be gone?"  
The spymaster wore the iciest glare he could possibly muster, flaying the paladin with his eyes as he let out a deep sigh.  
"More than a day, no more than three days," he muttered coldly. Shandris stood nearby, with a blank look on her face. Shaw wondered what kind of conspiracy they were up to, and why did they go to such lengths to get rid of him. Then he remembered what Shandris told him the previous night and he flinched inwardly. He was demoralizing the crew, apparently. At that moment realized that he would really rather be _anywhere_ than on the Redemption.  
"Let's go," he said, not turning to Flynn but the words were directed at him. With a few angry strides, he was already on the gangplank. Flynn followed him like a happy dog who just got thrown the bone of the century.

"Sailing? You just barely survived a storm on your job and you want to go back sailing?"  
"Just a small fishing boat! Not a grand voyage. You'll like it mate!"  
Shaw let out a frustrated sound, and he had half a mind to turn around and go back to the Redemption just to spite them.  
"What's to like about sailing anyway?" he asked, but received no answer as they were walking. Silence was an oddity when it came to Flynn so Shaw dared to steal a glance at the man walking by his side and he almost stopped in his tracks because Flynn seemed offended. Shaw probably trod on his toes, but he only huffed at the childish reaction.  
_"You are demoralizing the crew, Shaw."_ the voice of Shandris echoed in Shaw's mind, mocking him. Maybe she was right and Shaw was indeed an insensitive prick.  
The silence grew pregnant just as if to prove the statement right.  
"Hey. I didn't mean to-" Shaw tried to gain the ex-pirate's attention. Flynn looked at him, still hurt.  
"Mate. Sailing is my life," he admitted, and his voice was low, too serious. Shaw cringed because he never heard him speak in such a manner before.  
"I'm aware," he said with the intent of steering the dialogue towards more peaceful waters. "But I don't know why are you so keen on having me keep you company for that."  
Flynn only shook his head, eyes glittering.  
"Because it's obvious that you don't understand what life at sea means. You have to see it yourself! I want to show you!" There was a heat and an enthusiasm to his words. Shaw inhaled sharply. It was a too honest confession to be a joke and Flynn realized that too because he averted his eyes and was looking at every corner of the harbor, anywhere but at Shaw's stunned face.  
Shaw then composed himself and chuckled. Maybe he really needed this. Flynn startled at the sound. If Flynn's silence was a rare event, Shaw's laughter was even rarer.  
"Very well, Captain. Show me." 

On their way to the ramp where few dozen smaller ships were docked, Flynn explained vaguely how he had a nice fishing boat which he inherited from a poor sailor who died of old age not too long ago. Because he had no relatives. An so on. Shaw knew a lie when he heard one, he smelled it from far far away. He didn't call Flynn out on it, yet. When they reached the little sailboat though, the flaws in Flynn's elaborate story already started to show.

The ship was secured to the docks with a copious length of iron chains, secured with a massive lock. It was a suspicious sight on its own, as the rest of the ships were only tethered with a single rope winding around the posts.

Shaw just stood there, waiting patiently with his arms crossed while Flynn searched his pocket for an obviously non-existent key he said to have on his person. Then with a shrug, Flynn procured some lockpicks. He looked at Shaw sheepishly then bent down and started picking the lock. Shaw hummed at him in disapproval but observed the movement of his hands closely. Flynn fiddled and cursed.  
"Having troubles, Captain?" Shaw asked, bemused.  
"Ah, it's because you're watching you know," Flynn said through grit teeth, looking far away into the distance in his concentration, biting his tongue even. Shaw grew impatient at the sight and rolled his eyes.  
"May I help?"  
"No, no, I almost have it!" Flynn tried to finish the deed, but Shaw gave him a shove and took his place. He pulled out his own lockpicks and proceeded to open the lock with great efficiency. Flynn watched the spymaster at work, face stuck in awe. He worked with deft hands, and after few twisted moves the lock fell and the chains gave. The handiwork of a professional.  
Flynn pouted like a child, with hurt pride but Shaw had none of it.  
"You only succeeded because I weakened it," he said feebly, but Shaw only scoffed at that.  
"Yes, of course. Now, only after you." he gestured towards the ship they just literally stole. 

They left the port and the harbor of Boralus lay behind them framing the northern horizon, receding slowly. The ship was swift, the wind was strong, the weather was clear. Shaw stood at the railing, taking in the rare sight of a sunny Boralus. Flynn's hands started to snake around his waist, but Shaw grabbed at his wrists, stopping him entirely. Flynn made a confused sound. Shaw decided to explain.  
"We're being watched." Flynn was even more puzzled at that. 

_"You paranoid old fart."_  
"Now you are just making that up, Steelspark." Keeshan grabbed at her binoculars, but she didn't budge.  
"No, those were the exact words the captain said. Are you questioning my lip-reading abilities?"  
They were having a tug-o-war over the binoculars when Shandris decided to intervene calmly.  
"Just leave him be."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for #FairshawWeek 2020 prompt Day 7: Storm.  
> Minor warning: there is like one and a half sentence of smut near the end.

The sun was high and its scorching rays beat down mercilessly on Shaw's neck. The sea was calm, waves lazily lapped at the ship's side with monotonous sounds.  
It took them some time to gain a safe distance from prying spyglasses. Now the whole of Kul Tiras was just a lump of mountains sitting in the vast ocean. They were too far out in the open sea for his liking, Shaw noted, but in contradiction to that, a strange sort of comfort settled in his bones with the knowledge. There was no other noise besides the buzzing of the wind and the waves, no seaside birds cawing, and most comforting of all: no human speech to be heard. Fairwind was quiet, eerily so and Shaw sneaked a glance at the man. He was sprawled lazily in a makeshift hammock, coat discarded long ago, shirt halfway open to reveal a hairy chest, his bare feet dangling. He found a straw hat in the cabin which now obscured his face as he lay there motionless, apparently asleep. The hammock was swinging in tandem with the sway of the ship. Shaw felt a pang of jealousy for his ability to sleep and laze around like that.  
"I can hear you thinking, Shaw" he mumbled and shifted in this hammock.  
"I was just wondering. Is this what you wanted to show me?"  
Flynn lifted the brim of his straw hat and looked at Shaw, contemplating.  
"Yup," Flynn answered, and Shaw remained quiet.  
"You know if you are bored we could just do it." Flynn tried.  
Shaw scoffed.  
"We already did it twice."  
"I can be up and ready for you anytime," Flynn said with a wink. Youth. Shaw only sighed at that in a defeated manner, because he didn't want to mention he was too old to act like a horny lad, lest Fairwind decided to joke about it.  
For a moment he wondered how the two of them ended up together, what force drove Flynn to search for his company at all possible opportunity and what trait of Flynn made him give in each and every time.  
He heard the soft thuds of bare feet approaching, the other vacated the hammock in favor of hopping down beside him.  
"You will get a sunburn," Flynn said and promptly pressed the straw hat onto his head. He leaned back to admire his handiwork and Shaw felt a faint blush appear on his cheek. Then Flynn seemed to have a sudden idea.  
He started searching his pockets frantically and after a while, he pulled out a small container of sorts. He let out a small hoot of victory. He opened it and fished out a pair of tinted glasses. Shaw glanced at it. It was a goblin-made ware judging by its design, as it lacked the abundant amount of gears and bolts gnomes tended to decorate their products with. Just a simple pair of sunglasses. With a smile, Flynn made a move to place it on Shaw's nose and Shaw wondered once again why he let this man anywhere near himself.  
"Perfect." Flynn grinned, taking in his new look. Shaw was entirely sure he looked ridiculous in his new get up, but both the hat and the glasses were a welcome change after sitting so long in the blazing sun. Flynn sneaked his arms around his shoulders, circling them and leaned against him heavily.  
"You're not really cut out for a simpler life, are you?" Flynn noted that the older man's shoulder was less tense than it was before, but still far from the relaxed posture Flynn wanted to achieve.  
"I wouldn't be the spymaster if I were," Shaw answered. Flynn chuckled at that.  
After a while, Flynn asked a question on what he had been pondering for a while.  
"What is your greatest wish, Shaw?"  
Shaw didn't take long to answer.  
"Peace," he said simply. Flynn chewed his lip as he watched him.  
"For Azeroth, or for yourself?" Shaw shrugged. That was a trickier question, Shaw's own needs were only secondary in the face of the grand scheme.  
"Both, I guess." came the answer. Flynn only hummed, then remained quiet. Shaw was sure he had something to say to that, but he was thankful for his silence.  
They sat there quietly, gazing at the horizon, Flynn's head resting on Shaw's shoulder. It didn't take long for Shaw to let out a frustrated sigh, unintended. Flynn perked up at the familiar sound.  
"Are you bored, Shaw?"  
He was, but he didn't feel like voicing it. For the first time maybe in decades, Shaw was idle, and both his hands and mind itched terribly to _do_ something. He returned his gaze to the sea.  
"There's not much to do here."  
"That's the point, mate." Shaw looked at him incredulously, as if he just stated that Azeroth was flat.  
"I don't understand what's so good about this," he admitted genuinely, gesturing at the picturesque ocean at large. Flynn frowned, seemingly at loss. He scratched his head with his free hand. He wanted Shaw to enjoy their little getaway, but it seemed an insurmountable task. An idea popped into his mind.  
"How about you work, then?"  
"How could I work here?"  
"You are a spymaster. Do your spy stuff."  
Shaw groaned. His irritation, which he managed to keep at bay for so long, rekindled in earnest. He buried his face in his hand.  
"Are you even aware what my job is?" Flynn didn't answer but tightened his hold on Shaw's shoulder.  
"Observe," he said, pointing at the ocean.  
"There's nothing to see here."  
"Oh. But there is a lot of intel." Flynn said cheerfully. "Look. See that cloud? Tell me what you see."  
Shaw let out yet another sigh but removed his hand from his face and followed Flynn’s hand with his gaze which pointed at a small lump of white cloud.  
"It's just a cloud." he shook his head. But Flynn didn't relent, so he did as he was told and watched the cloud.  
"What am I supposed to look for?" he asked after a while.  
"Change." Shaw started to get hang of it finally. The cloud they both focused on was slowly moving, growing in size.  
"Do you see now?" Flynn asked and turned to Shaw to press a soft kiss at his jaw.  
"The clouds tell a tale." he continued. "Sailors' lives depend on the weather most of the time. Now tell me what you observe. In detail." he added.  
"Well. It's small. But it's growing in size." Flynn hummed in approval, also because he felt some of the tension lessen beneath his hand. He realized that Shaw could only relax when he had his focus set on something.  
"What else?"  
"It's going upwards, slowly but steadily. The edges are sharp. It looks like- "Shaw frowned, suddenly at loss of words, thinking.  
"Beerfoam?" Flynn suggested. Shaw looked at him sharply.  
"A cauliflower." Flynn laughed out loud at the choice of his word.  
"Okay, that's actually point on. If you mean that weird vegetable pandarens eat," he said breathlessly. Shaw suddenly didn't feel like continuing, and Flynn was alarmed because they were back to square one suddenly, with Shaw's back once more stiffening beneath his hand. The aura of his irritation was almost visible, he noted with dismay. All progress they made so far had all but vanished.  
"Is that all?" he asked, suggesting Shaw to go on. Shaw huffed out another irritated breath but resumed, his eyes back on the offending cloud once again.  
"The top starts to get... flat?"  
"Yup, after reaching a certain height it does that. The top spreads then and sometimes it even becomes larger than the cloud beneath. Most of the time it looks a lot like an anvil." Flynn moved to stand, ready to steer the ship to safety because the cloud was too close for comfort."And, basically, you just were a witness to the birth of a storm." Shaw didn't look at him, his eyes were still fixated on the ever-growing shape, noting the changes in size and form, awed by the sight.  
"Mate, for someone coming from a place called _Stormwind_ , it's surprising that I could show you something new," Flynn added.  
Shaw looked at him with raised eyebrows at the remark, but Flynn only had a goofy grin plastered over his face. He seemed proud.  
"Captain, I hate to break it to you, but I have a group of people working under me to check on the weather so I don't have to," he said defensively. It was true, he always had more important work than watching clouds go by. Flynn pouted.  
"Eyes back on the sky, Shaw." he suggested "There's a lot going on right now. See, it's already raining over there. Whoever is beneath it is in for a bad time."

That wasn't the only storm that formed, it was soon followed by several clouds quickly joining in a line. Shaw started to see a pattern in the motions. He would never admit it loudly but it was actually fascinating to watch. Meanwhile, Flynn decided it was high time make for safety, and steered their vessel towards a small set of islands they had seen before. As far as he knew they were unhabitable rocks.

"I have a suspicion you've been here before," Shaw said when they made for a sandy bank in front of a gaping cave. Flynn didn't deny it. Behind them, thunder rumbled and rain started pattering before turning into a massive downpour.  
Inside the cave, there was a small pond, somewhere at the back the sound of a waterfall could be heard. The rest of its flooring was soft sand. High above them, the cave had a hole in the ceiling where some of the fading light filtered in. Shaw looked out for bones or feces but thankfully the cave was unoccupied. For now.  
"It seems somebody else also holed up here not too long ago," Shaw said uneasily, seeing the remains of a campfire, and heavy booted tracks in the sand.  
"I doubt we will get company now, Shaw." As if to prove his words, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, almost immediately followed by a loud clap. For a moment Shaw was glad they were inside.  
Flynn set out to work on a small campfire but stopped when Shaw beckoned him to go over, and asked a question.  
"What do you make of these?" he gestured at the tracks in the sand.  
"Hm. Somebody with two legs? I don't know." Flynn shrugged. Shaw had the faintest of smiles lurking beneath his moustache, and Flynn caught a glimpse of it before it disappeared. He felt a strange flutter in his heart, when he noticed the minute expression on the normally ever-impassive face.  
"Is that your best suggestion?" Shaw asked.  
"Ah okay." Flynn giggled as he leaned closer to study the imprints. "Two legs. In boots, I assume." Shaw tutted at that.  
"We never assume. We search for proof if we're unsure." Flynn wondered briefly whether this was an SI:7 mock-lecture he was given freely in case he wanted to enroll.  
"Very well. Boots. Big legs." he checked the tracks and compared them to his. "Certainly not mine." he grinned and looked at Shaw questioningly.  
"For starters, not that bad. Still bad though." Again, the hint of smile appeared.  
"Mate, I don't even know what I am supposed to look for" Flynn admitted.  
"A tall male human. Well-built, Kul-Tiran, no less than two weeks ago. Alone. Bearing something heavy. See his steps? He was in a hurry."  
Flynn followed Shaw's hand as he pointed at the footprints. _They told a tale._  
"Come here." Shaw ventured further into the cave. If Flynn didn't know him better he would have thought the man was excited.  
"Now do you see anything strange?" Flynn looked closer in the waning light. There was only a single set of tracks in the sand and its direction was toward the entrance of the cave. Then he noticed what Shaw probably had seen in a moment. The tracks had no beginning as if someone tried to cover them with long sweeps. Flynn grinned.  
"Mate, you would make an excellent pirate," Flynn exclaimed, amazed.  
"You, in turn, would be an awful operative." Shaw cringed.  
"Give me a break, I had no idea what you wanted to hear!" Flynn laughed and scaled the mound of sand at the back of the cave and started digging enthusiastically with his bare hands. Shaw watched him work with an amused look as he unearthed a chest. Flynn made a victorious sound and brushed the chest free of the remaining sand.  
"Now, Shaw since you seem so intent in showing off how superior you are, care to teach me some lockpicking tricks, too?" Shaw laughed. It was an odd sound, Flynn decided he never had enough of it. It echoed in the cave.  
He didn't say a word, but he joined Flynn next to the unearthed chest, still breathless from laughter. He was twirling his moustache in a failed attempt to hide his smug smile.  
"Show me how you're doing it and I will tell you what's wrong." Flynn suddenly felt his palms sweating as he reached for the lockpicks in his pocket. He did what he always had done, fumbling around within the lock. Shaw frowned while he observed him at work.  
"Your technique seems right."  
"Ha!" Flynn made a victorious sound at that. But Shaw looked at him with raised eyebrows.  
"But the lock's still not open."  
Then Flynn detected movement behind him and he was thrilled to feel the spymaster's arm encircle his torso, his chest pressing to his back.  
Shaw's hands closed on his own firmly and guided his movements. Flynn felt his pulse racing in anticipation. Shaw then moved their hands together, trying a few angles. Flynn turned his head and couldn't suppress a question that came to his mind.  
"Do you teach all your agents this way?" he asked quietly, amusement apparent in his voice. He felt the older man smile into his nape.  
"Only the worst ones," he said, and the ex-pirate felt a shiver run down his spine when Shaw's hot breath was in his hair. Flynn sniggered at the remark. He was inclined to ditch the lockpicks, turn around and kiss Shaw, chest be damned. But Shaw had none of it, he was too intent on solving the problem at hand, his grip was firm. He twisted the picks, but the lock didn't budge. Flynn could almost hear Shaw frowning from frustration, but then all of a sudden Shaw let out another breath of laugh.  
"It's not your technique. It's your lockpicks that suck," he said while inspecting the pick. He abruptly let go of Flynn's hands and stood, and Flynn almost let out a whimper at the sudden loss of warmth. With a few strides, Shaw went to their makeshift camp, rummaged a bit in his rucksack. Flynn waited patiently, with an anticipating smile plastered on his face while kneeling in the sand in front of the chest. Shaw returned within a moment, holding a set of picks.  
"How about you try this one?" Flynn hummed, took it, and got to work. Miraculously, the lock gave after a few tries, and Flynn exclaimed at the success. He handed the lockpick back to Shaw, who, to his surprise only shook his head.  
"Keep it," he said. "I've got plenty of spare ones."  
Flynn flushed but pocketed the picks because why not. He proceeded to open the chest and peeked into it. Shaw hovered nearby, obviously curious. Flynn then laughed. While Shaw was...  
"Why Shaw, you look disappointed." Flynn grinned.  
"Well, I expected something... more rewarding." There wasn't much of value in the chest, except for the tremendous amount of rum, and a few knick-knacks. Besides the various bottles, there were some unreadable maps, a mirror, and a few candle holders made from yellow-copper, probably mistaken to be made of gold, but obviously they were of no value.  
"Now, this here is worth a fortune." Flynn pulled out a crystal bottle, filled with pitch-black liquid, and he held it gingerly like it was a sacred artifact.  
"We just discovered a drunkard's stash," Shaw said, uncharacteristically dissatisfied.  
"It _is_ a good find. You are too choosy." Flynn rummaged a bit more within the space, and the bottles clinked together with a harsh noise.  
"I think there's something special for you in there as well," said Flynn and he pulled out a golden chain, and on its end dangled a circular object.  
"I already have a pocket watch." But Flynn held it out for Shaw to inspect it. It was dwarven made, with an intricate design, and more detailed than the one he had on his person. There were four subsidiary dials comprising of month, day, date and seconds with moon phase. He didn't have to check his own to see that it was showing the right time. It was flawless. He made a move to hand it back, but this time Flynn shook his head.  
"It's not mine," Shaw said and insisted on putting it back.  
"It is yours now mate," Flynn said with a wink.  
"I already have a pocket watch," Shaw repeated. But Flynn took his hand and closed his fingers around the trinket, firmly.  
"I bet it's not as fancy as this one." Shaw couldn't object to that.  
"Very well," he said. Flynn was still holding his hands and showed no indication of letting it go. Their eyes met in the dim light. Flynn leaned forward timidly, but Shaw had foreseen the movement because he met him halfway in a chaste kiss. Their kiss started out as a subtle peck on the lips, but soon it turned into a more fervorous one. Shaw put a halt to it with a hand on Flynn's nape, subtly pulling him back.  
"How about dinner first?" he asked Flynn seemed to have an objection because he was in the mood since Shaw's hands sneaked around him with his awfully cheesy attempt to teach him how to pick a lock properly. He was almost amazed at his own restraint for not attacking Shaw with his mouth there and then. He was about to voice his protest, but of course, his stomach chose this time to betray him and it growled audibly, postponing the activities he anticipated. Shaw raised his eyebrows, and again there were traces of visible mirth in his features, and Flynn had a sudden epiphany that Shaw was actually having fun. Efforts bore fruits at last.  
Their dinner was modest and spent in silence. Flynn cooked a broth in a small pot on the improvised campfire he conjured from driftwood. The storm outside quieted, only the occasional flash of lightning, and the faint faraway boom of thunder following indicated its presence. After dinner, Flynn uncorked his newly obtained drink and took a sip. Shaw only sat by the fire and watched his face contort from the strong brew, readying himself to turn down the offer. He couldn't fathom why Flynn insisted that he should drink, and he made himself clear a thousand times that it wasn't his vice. Just as predicted, Flynn held out the bottle towards him, earning a shake of his head. For the thousand-and-first time.  
"Mate" Flynn started, with a hint of exasperation."I know you don't drink on the job, but you are not on the job right now. I heard each and every excuse for about a thousand times" Shaw huffed at that, but Flynn wasn't finished with his sentence," but this one" he shook the crystal bottle for emphasis, "is a must-try." He held it out once again, with a certainty of being convincing.  
Shaw didn't budge. Silence stretched between them, and Flynn was unrelenting. He stubbornly held out the bottle while trying to muster a piercing look that Shaw was master of. He only imagined how intimidating he could be, he must have been a joke. His arm started to protest after a while, muscles spasmed from exertion mercilessly, but still, he held on as if it were a matter of life and death. Shaw probably took pity on him, because after a very long time he reached out and yanked the bottle from his grip. Flynn let out a bewildered 'Oh' which display was actually only one part mocking, the other part was a genuine surprise.  
"Just this once. It better be good, Fairwind." there was a threat, one that Flynn knew he shouldn't take seriously yet it gave him familiar chills. Shaw took a sip then. Flynn held his breath, eager for the reaction.  
Shaw was... Flynn couldn't tell for sure, he was still learning to read the impassive face, but as far as he knew, he was pleased.  
"Hm. Not bad." he said, finally, and Flynn finally let out the breath that was starting to burn his lungs. "What's this anyway?" he asked, inspecting the bottle.  
"Black rum. One of a kind. Even the bottle is a masterpiece in itself." Indeed it was a fine cut-glass bottle, with intricate incisions and an almost piercing texture when held, Shaw noted.  
"Also. It's very old." Flynn said carefully. Then he licked his lips, and after a short pause he added: "Almost as old as you are." There, he couldn't resist. Getting violent a reaction to the rouse was always the highlight of Flynn's day, and it was worth the risk even though he had full knowledge of how dangerous that game was.  
Shaw pursed his lips, but for once no uppercut came. He just rolled his eyes and took another sip. Then he spoke.  
"Care to tell me, Captain, what are your plans with someone as old as me?"  
"For tonight, or for the rest of our lives?" Flynn asked.  
Shaw's heart halted to a stop. He looked sharply at the younger man and gulped.  
"For tonight," Shaw said hastily, keen on avoiding any topic that concerned their possible future.  
Flynn probably expected his answer and didn't seem to take it to heart because grinned like the cat who got the cream as he slowly, ever so slowly started to inch towards the other.  
"As for your question, I have a few ideas," he said while crawling closer. "But I wonder if you will last," he added with lips caught between teeth.  
"Hurry up then, before I croak from old age," Shaw said, with a crack in his voice that held sarcasm but it was also tinted with the merest hint of fondness.  
Flynn finally reached him, latched onto his sitting form, and kissed him with voracity. The kiss was an out-right mess, open-mouthed, violent. Like a storm, Shaw thought fleetingly. Then his heart fluttered as a sudden thought hit him, like a lightning out of the blue. That Flynn was too young, too _good_ for him. He deserved someone far better than a grim old man with a dubious job. He paused and pushed Flynn away and his eyes held something akin to fear.  
Flynn's eyes mirrored his fear, feeling something was wrong but unknowing of the source. He reached up to touch Shaw's face, fingertips barely touching as if he were soothing a scared bird. They held eye-contact. The ex-pirate caressed his face with the intent to ease whatever distress he was under. It seemed to help because Shaw leaned into his touch. Flynn slowly tilted his head, to resume the kiss, this time at a more gentle pace, easing the other's worries with each touch of lips. At long last Shaw relaxed and Flynn flashed him an encouraging smile. They were still sitting, Flynn practically in the spymaster's lap, when both men's hands began wandering, mapping each other's skin, sneaking beneath shirts.  
They moved to their makeshift bedding, which was a pile of blankets thrown over the sand. It was Flynn's doing, no doubt preparing for the event beforehand, and it turned to be a rather convenient setup. The cave was pitch-black now, save for the light of their little camp-fire, but the blanket of darkness was a welcome comfort. Shaw lay on his back, shirt open and Flynn was above him, hair falling forward and maddeningly tickling Shaw's skin as he kissed him on the mouth and proceeded downwards with feathery kisses along his jawline. He took his time with his elaborate foreplay, agonizingly slow. It was as if he wanted to punish Shaw, probably for committing the crime of overthinking. Because Shaw didn't like it gently, and generally Flynn didn't either, yet there he lay tortured slowly to death with small pecks and tentative touches. Shaw was trained to withstand torture, but he must have skipped the lesson on this one. He groaned in frustration at last and halted Flynn's ministrations with a too-firm grip, earning a startled stare.  
"Captain, you really will kill me if you continue this." Flynn grinned against his skin, fingers toying with a nipple.  
"Time for a main-course you say?" he asked cheekily, and Shaw rolled his eyes at his choice of words and gave him a too-gentle whack on the head. Flynn only giggled at that but decided to take a more serious approach and unlaced the spymaster's breeches. Shaw's cock sprang free, hard, and glistening from neglect. The long-drawn-out foreplay had taken its toll. Flynn glanced at him with admiration, for the third time that day. Shaw's breath caught in his throat when Flynn finally, finally touched him, encircling the base and stroking him with a firm hand.

The storm was entirely gone and stars peeked out from beneath the frays of the dissipating clouds. The night was quiet save for the sound of the monotonous waves. They lay on the blanket in the sand, which was incredibly soft and comfortable, with Shaw on his back and Flynn lying against him on his side, his large arm draped over his middle. Flynn was quiet, probably on the verge of sleep. But Shaw was kept awake by his thoughts, mostly thinking about the man lying so close to him and his heart's wish was fighting a vicious battle with cold reason. They had done it many times before. First there was the banter, then the familiarity. Then the comfort of touch. And somewhere along a line had been crossed and Shaw was unaware of it until now. The transition was so subtle that the realization entirely eluded him until it was too late. One slip was all it took. He didn't know when it happened, but it did, and now he was - they were - done for. His heart throbbed uncomfortably in his chest, and a bitter taste was lodged in his throat.  
"I can hear you thinking Shaw," Flynn said quietly, the same exact sentence for the second time that day. No doubt he was sensing his inner turmoil, but Shaw had trouble voicing his concerns.  
"That must be a secret ability of yours" Shaw deflected.  
"Hm. Care to share your thoughts, though?" Which one, Shaw wanted to ask because his mind was filled with a strange cavalcade of memories, a thousand questions, and savage imagery of a foreboding future. He shifted a little, then settled for one, the one that mattered most and concerned the two of them but was safe in a sense because it didn't necessarily steer the conversation towards the problematic of their relationship.  
"The tidings suggest that the war will be over soon." Flynn lifted his arm and placed a hand on his jaw. Slowly he turned his head to have him facing him, succeeding in tearing his gaze from the darkness of the ceiling. The light was scarce, their little campfire slowly dwindled to embers. Yet Flynn's eyes found his, glittering in the dark, and Shaw saw the sincere expression on his face, clear as day. Whether Shaw projected the look from his mind or his senses became that sharp over the years, he didn't know.  
"There's no war here, Shaw. It's only you and I." he said, with a soft caress on his face. Not another word was uttered for the rest of the night, but the sentence repeated in Shaw's brain like a mantra, banishing all other thought. He fell asleep to the sound of it, and his slumber was deep and dreamless.

Shaw woke at first light, literally. He was more refreshed and well-rested than he had been in the past months. The sun appeared on the horizon with a fiery red blaze, emerging from the see. He had a perfect view from it where he lay, he was lying facing toward's the cave's entrance, and he had the chance to watch the sun slowly rise above the waves. His first coherent thought was the word 'beautiful', then he blinked in confusion because he always thought himself to be immune to such sentimental notions. Clouds and sun just weren't his sort of thing, he never had the spare time to indulge in their simpler joys, sparing a glance at them was always a luxury he couldn't afford. Thus he was never inclined to do so. He focused on the shining disc until it gained enough light to be uncomfortable to look at. He shifted and took in his surroundings. The cave was entirely different in this new light, above in the opening the purple sky gazed back at him. The walls of the cave were now coated in harsh orange light, just as the sand they lay in blazed in the same color. The shadows had a blue tint to them, and it was a stunning sight to behold. The air was cold, clean, and sharp, with the faintest smell of salt, but Shaw didn't feel cold where lay. He shifted his focus onto the source of warmth lying in his arms. Flynn was unmoving, deep in slumber. The reddish light cast on his features made his slack face look incredibly young, and Shaw held his breath watching him. His thoughts only revolved around Flynn, and the cave and how beautiful it all was. Soon, too soon Flynn stirred with a deep intake of breath. His eyes took in the cave above them then focused groggily on Shaw. He immediately let out a grin and moved to press a kiss on his lips. Shaw closed his eyes, still struck by awe, and returned the kiss softly with the intent of showing gratitude.

Because, unbeknownst to Flynn, even if only for a single night, he granted him peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cringy English here and there. And the utter cheesiness. On a side note though, I learned like 1000 new English words this week, which makes me feel less ashamed. C/C is welcome! ❤❤❤

**Author's Note:**

> This is a mess. I started writing this on day 2, but it ended up too long and the second part ended up coincidentally fitting for the day 7 prompt: storm as well. So I was a bit unsure about how to divide them because they took place in the same setting. It stretched too long and ended up too wordy because I'm an amateur, so please forgive me. Also, my not-so-good English could be a bit hard to read, please excuse me for it.


End file.
